INTRODUCTION

 

The party had been going full swing and everyone seemed to be relaxed and in a good mood. The style of clothing ranged from the casual tee shirt and jeans, through to no more than a couple of leather straps and nipple rings and everything in between. The fact that some wore rubber or PVC, or nothing at all, was accepted as normal, as this was a gathering of like-minded folk. Of those interested in the S & M scene.

I had been drawn into the conversation of a fairly large group, both male and female. While relating one of my many bizarre adventures, I became aware that something was different. The party had gone quiet, and I was surrounded by a circle of people listening intently to what I had to say.

'Why don't you write a book on your adventures?' someone suggested.

'I might just do that!' I laughingly replied. Never really thinking that I would do such a thing. Not because I didn't want to but because I had never, before that time, considered that my adventures in the S & M scene were anything but ordinary. I was only now realising that perhaps they were extraordinary and not everyone had had the good fortune to do the variety of things that I had experienced.

You have, no doubt, read many stories of bondage and similar subjects that have shown what a wonderful imagination the author has. Stranger Than Fiction is not what its title suggests, but a true story. Only the names of the people and places have been changed. The remainder is just as it happened.

Exact conversations cannot, of course, always be recalled, but all the relevant details included will certainly give an over-all picture of the situation.

So come with me on a potted history of my more bizarre adventures and perhaps you will realise that truth really is Stranger Than Fiction.

INITIATION

 

If you have been interested in the S & M scene since early childhood, then you will understand what I mean when I say that I thought I was the only person in the whole wide world who became excited when seeing females in bondage.

I was sixteen, naive and totally inexperienced in all aspects of sex beyond the heavy petting stage. After all, how do you ask a girl if she would mind being bound and gagged?

I simply thought it was stuff dreams were made of. Certainly not something that could happen in real life.

My other interest was girls wearing PVC macs and the 'ideal dream', was to see a girl wearing a mac and then put into bondage. The bondage part was beyond my expectations, but there were plenty of girls at that time wearing PVC macs, as practically every girl had at least one in her wardrobe.

On rainy days it was a pleasure to walk the streets of any busy town and count the number of girls wrapped up in plastic. As far as I was concerned, a good day in London would mean that it was raining and a hundred girls or more had been seen wearing their shiny macs. Mind you, I was always most careful not to stare and would have been very upset if I had been accused of being a voyeur. I certainly had no wish to annoy anyone.

My girl friends were always pleased, if not a little puzzled, that I would bother to buy them a plastic mac as a present, but they wore them when it rained. I thought it was the epitome of thrills, even if I was never able to share my feelings.

I had been working away from home and lodging in the usual 'digs' in south London. There was nothing refined about the place but it was clean, the food was good and the 40 watt bulb in my room allowed me to locate the bed and my clothes. I expected nothing more owing to its low cost. Many students and travellers on a budget stayed there.

People were always coming and going, so it was nothing unusual during my last evening that I heard the voices of Australian girls talking to the Landlady. They were making arrangements to rent a room.

'I'm afraid I've only one room available and that has a double bed,' said the Landlady apologetically. 'But at least it is out of that awful rain.'

'I'm sure it will be fine,' one of the girls said reassuringly.

'We'll get washed and changed and then come down for our meal.'

The Landlady walked through the dining room to fetch the key to the girls' bedroom. The girls followed. I just sat there, my meal forgotten. Both girls were wearing plastic macs!

The brunette wore a black, shiny one. Quite long and tightly belted. The blonde wore a similar mac but this was of semi-transparent plastic.

As far as I was concerned, they were angels from Heaven! Gorgeous!

The fact that they were bedraggled and tired from heaving heavy cases about was irrelevant to me. As they started to pick up their cases again and move towards the stairs, I made an unseemly dash across the room.

'Here ' I said heroically, 'let me help you with those.'

So saying, I grabbed a case in each hand and struggled up the stairs with plastic clad girls obediently following on behind.

'Which room have you got?' I asked, trying not to sound too out of breath.

'Room number three' the brunette replied with a smile.

'That's next to mine,' I informed them as we entered their room and I gratefully dumped the cases on the double bed.

'If you want anything, anything at all, just call me!' I volunteered, and with an embarrassed grin, backed out of their room.

I hesitated, trying to find words to say and not finding any.

'Thank you, thank you very much,' said the blonde as she stepped across the room to me. Reaching up, she kissed me lightly on the cheek. For a second my body was pressed against that plastic clad dream and then I was out in the passage, with the blonde closing the bedroom door.

I thought I heard them giggle, and if they thought I was amusing, then so be it.

Going next door to my own room, I sat on the bed in the gloom of the 40 watt bulb and thought of nothing else but the two plastic clad beauties, so close, but so far away.